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His heart clenched. It actually hurt, as though spikes of steel had been dug into it.
“Should I?” he asked her, moving to Rory’s truck as his brother headed around to Sabella’s car. Thankfully, there had been a spare key to the car at the garage.
“Maybe not,” she mumbled as he opened the truck door and slid her across the seat before getting into the truck, sliding it into gear, and heading home.
She was silent then, staring out the window as though she were interested in what they passed. As he pulled into her driveway, she stared at the house silently, her expression somber.
“Sometimes, I’m very lonely here,” she suddenly said as he cut the motor and clenched the steering wheel furiously.
“You didn’t have to stay alone,” he told her hoarsely.
“Yeah, that’s what Kira and Sienna seem to think.” She sighed deeply, still staring at the house, as Noah winced.
“Why did you stay after he died?” he asked.
She didn’t turn to look at him, just stared at her home, the grief on her face twisting his soul, wringing it dry.
Finally, she said, “It’s home.”
Shaking his head, he got out of the truck and strode to the door she was pushing open. He lifted her from the truck, steadied her, and helped her to the house.
“You can’t come in,” she told him.
“Sabella, this is the wrong damned time to push me.” He’d just about had enough. He’d had enough of the hollow grief raging inside him, and the hunger ripping him apart.
“I’m drunk. Are you going to take advantage of me?” she asked him blithely as he unlocked the door and led her inside.
“Not tonight. Maybe I’ll take advantage of you tomorrow night instead.”
He caught the little pout on her lips as she gave him a glare.
“You’re being very mean to me, Nathan. I think you should know that.”
He almost flinched as she used his real name in her tipsy state. She couldn’t know what she was saying. A slip of the tongue, he reminded himself. A ragged, pain-filled groan nearly tore from his chest though. She said it so easily as she stumbled against him. Just as she would have years before when she was put out with him. As though she knew, or sensed the truth.
He lifted her into his arms again and carried her up the stairs, but his throat was tight with emotion. The hollow emptiness that had filled him for so long now seemed to overflow with feelings, with emotions. With grief.
He laid her in their bed, watching as her head settled on the pillow, her lashes fluttering drowsily.
He untied her boots and set them carefully by the bed. He pulled her jeans from her, and because he knew she hated sleeping in a bra, he unhooked it and removed it from beneath her shirt.
She stared up at him. “You can take advantage of me. I promise not to get mad.”
“Later,” he promised her as he sat on the bed beside her.
“Would you hold me?”
Hold her? When everything inside him was screaming for so much more. But it wasn’t so little to give her, when he had taken so much from her.
He pulled his boots off, moved to his side of the bed, and lay down beside her before pulling her into his arms.
“I have nightmares,” she whispered as he tucked her against his chest.
“I know, baby.” He undid her braid, worked her hair loose.
“I see blood,” she told him. “My hands are covered in blood. And you’re crouched in front of me. You are. Then Nathan is. Then you. Then Nathan is drifting away and you’re still there. And suddenly I’m you, and the pain is so bad. And all I feel is you thinking about me. Begging me to save you as I dance in front of you and tempt you to take me. But it’s not me. And it’s so frightening, Noah.”
He flinched. God, she had seen into that hell. The temptation Fuentes had brought him in the women that so resembled Sabella. He was pumped on the whore’s dust, so aroused it was a clawing pain, but knowing. Knowing the women brought to him weren’t his wife.
